The Art of War
by My Little Vixen
Summary: Harry is left to his own devices over the holidays, and finds some interesting things about himself. Super!Harry
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer::_** I do not own Harry Potter, but I think I own this plot. I don't own the title either...that belongs to Sun-Tzu.

**_Summary::_** Harry is left to his own devices over the holidays, and discovers some interesting facts about himself.

_**The Art of War**_

_**Making of Plans**_

_'Master Sun said:_

_War is_

_A grave affair of state;_

_It is a place_

_Of life and death,_

_A road_

_To survival and extinction,_

_A matter _

_To be pondered carefully._

_There are five fundamentals_

_For this deliberation,_

_For the making of comparisons_

_And the assessing of conditions:_

_The Way,_

_Heaven,_

_Earth,_

_Command,_

_Discipline'_

Sun Tzu

_**Chapter 1 – The Way**_

_'The Way_

_Causes men_

_To be of one mind_

_With their rulers,_

_To live or die with them,_

_And never to waver.'_

Sun Tzu

.::.

"Boy. Get up and get Dudders his breakfast." Petunia Dursley screamed through the thin, wooden door to the second smallest bedroom at number 4 Privet Drive. It was common knowledge to all who lived nearby that the inhabitents of said house were Petunia Dusley; perfectly normal housewife, Vernon Dursley; perfectly normal business man, Dudley Dursley; perfectly normal if slightly overweight teenager, and Harry Potter; freak extraordinaire and inmate at a school for misbehaving boys.

However, if any of the neighbours had bothered to think about the situation in that house, they would have realised that while Harry Potter was only present during some of the holidays, if you met him along the street or at the shops, he was a very polite young man. It would also have become obvious that they only people who were heard in the house were the Dursleys, and that Harry Potter usually wore a variety of bruises, black eyes and cut-lips.

It was then, definitely a shame that the neighbours didn't think about it very often. And those that did had children; children who came home from the shops or school saying what a lovely person Dudley Dursley was, and trying to hide the array of bruises on their arms and chests, often passing them off as accidents.

"Potter. My boy's starving out here." the voice shrieked again, and the Harry pushed himself up off the bed. He ruffled through his already messy hair, and straightened his T-Shirt. It was only the second day of the holidays and they were already treating him like a slave.

"I'm coming Aunt Petunia." He called and pulled on some socks that were lying randomly in his trunk. He still hadn't unpacked from coming home from Hogwarts for the holidays; the Gryffindor was still hoping that Dumbledoor hadn't been serious when he told him that he would have to stay the entire holidays at his relatives house. He had told the headmaster several times how bad the situation was, but the man had waved it off every time, saying that it wasn't as bad as he made out, or that the situation would right itself in time.

Harry opened the door to his bedroom before his Aunt had chance to yell at him again, and left the room, shutting the door behind him and jogging down the stairs. He needed to get fitter, he thought, maybe he should take up running before breakfast.

As he entered the kitchen, he could see Dudley and Vernon already sitting at the table, the younger of the large men was watching the small television carefully, his pig-like eyes almost bulging out of his head as he tried to see the small picture. Vernon grunted as he entered the room, nodding at the cooker and fridge. Apparently, that meant that he wanted the same as usual for breakfast.

Harry shrugged and walked more slowly over to the fridge, opening it and pulling out the open packet of bacon and box of eggs. He sighed as he noticed that there was only ten pieces of bacon left – there would be none for him again; four for Dudley, four for Vernon and two for Petunia. He was, for once, glad that Vernon had a decent job at the drill company, as it meant that the family could afford to buy so much food, and so many presents for Dudley. However, they never seemed to buy enough for him; it was almost as though they forgot about him coming home for the holidays, and still bought enough for the three of them.

Harry turned on the grill and slapped a few pieces of bacon down. It wasn't as though he could blame them though. Sure they had been horrible to him for the sixteen years he had been at their house, but he had been left on their doorstep with a note in his blanket. They hadn't asked for him, and nor had they wanted him, but Dumbledoor had pressured Petunia into keeping her sister's baby. Now that he thought about it, they hadn't chucked him out and left him to die, they had clothed him, and they had fed him enough.

He put the cooked bacon and eggs down with a piece of toast and about half a pot of cooked baked-beans on a plate, and carried them over to the two men at the table. He had just put Petunia's down when she walked into the kitchen with a new floral dress on. They must be going to a work party, Harry thought, as he looked at Vernon's suit and Dudley's smart outfit. Obviously, they weren't taking him with them.

Petunia smiled at him, throwing the boy off guard, and pointed at a small bag on the worktop, near to the fridge. Harry took a look inside it, and saw a new pack of bacon with some more bread. Looking back at his aunt, he saw her nod and tuck into her own breakfast. Harry smiled and began to cook the extra bacon, he would only take a few pieces.

.::.

Harry could hear Dudley and Vernon banging around upstairs in the bathroom as he washed up the plates from breakfast. Petunia hadn't yet left the room, and he could feel her eyes watching him, burning a hole in his back. He put the clean plates away neatly in the cupboard and turned round.

"Yes Aunt Petunia?" He asked, not unpolitely, as she had let him have breakfast for once. She was fiddling with a sealed envelope. It didn't have a name or a stamp on it yet, and he assumed that it was a job for him today – to take it down to the post office.

"We – Vernon, Dudley and I – are taking a holiday in America for a month. We're leaving now." She put the letter down on the dining room table, and stood up as Vernon and Dudley came back down again. "Read that when we've gone." She whispered to him, giving him a slight hug before turning and walking out of the room.

"Come and take the bags to the car boy." Vernon said loudly, and Harry rushed to the bags in the hall. He hadn't noticed them on the way down, but it looked as though they were taking a lot of things.

.::.

Harry watched through the living room window as the car drove off, thinking about how strange the situation was. The Dursley's had never left him alone before, always sending him off to stay with Mrs Figg if they took even a day trip. What had made them change their mind? One thing was certain; Dumbledoor would not be happy if he found out that they had left him. So Harry would have to make sure the headmaster never found out.

The Gryffindor had a month to himself, so maybe he could get a few things done that he wouldn't usually be able to do during the holidays. He walked back into the kitchen and picked up the letter as he sat down at the table. His fingers shook slightly as he opened it, and began to read the neat lettering inside.

_'Harry,_

_If you are reading this, I have been too cowardly to tell you myself. Let me tell you everything I know. _

_My name is Petunia Anne Dursley and I am your mother's sister. We grew up together, as close as sisters can be; we were practically inseperable. Then Lily received her Hogwarts letter, and she became estranged, hardly talking to me. When she did, she acted as though I was below her. I even wrote to the headmaster of Hogwarts, begging for him to let me into the school so I could be with Lily, for I loved her still, though she seemed to love me no longer. _

_When she left for the first time, I sent her letter after letter, asking her to tell me everything that happened while she was at Hogwarts. I never got a reply. She came back at Christmas a completely different person; she never stopped talking about Hogwarts, James Potter, Siruis Black, Remus Lupin and Severus Snape. Apparently she had been sorted into Gryffindor, but she wouldn't tell me what that meant, who her friends were, what it was like to be able to do magic or anything like that. I vowed that Christmas Day to hate her until she answered my questions, which she never did. _

_She came back each holidays, telling Mom and Dad about how wonderful Hogwarts and magic was, never telling me the simplest spell, and always hushing when I came into the room. _

_I'm sorry for my treatement of you in the years you have been a member of my household; my hatred of Lily clouded my vision of you. You never knew your Mom, and we didn't bring you up in the best way we could have. And for that, I'm sorry. _

_Please forgive me, and enjoy yourself in the month to come. _

_Petunia Anne Dursley'_

Harry placed the letter down on the table, silent as a dementor. He had never heard his Aunt's side of the tale, and had always agreed with Ron and Siruis that she was mean, and that Lily was amazing and could do no wrong. He sighed, he could see where she was coming from though.

He cocked his head as he looked at the envelope again. There was something inside it, and he had read the entire letter. His fingers made their way inside the envelope and pulled out a large wad of notes and another letter. He flipped through the notes, smiling with affection at Aunt Petunia's generousity; there was at least five hunderd pounds of cash here, probably more like one thousand pounds.

The other letter was written in a more cursive hand, the words flowing across the page.

_'Dear Harry,_

_If you are reading this letter of mine, it means that both me and James are dead. It also means that you have been placed into the care of someone other than Siruis and Remus, meaning that they are either dead, or in Azkaban. _

_I do hope that you have not been made to live with my sister, Petunia. She made it clear to me years ago that she dislikes me, my friends, and magic in general. Although, to be fair to her, it was mostly my fault. I didn't want to share the feeling of being magical with anyone else. _

_Before I say goodbye to you, my darling son, I must tell you a few things. _

_I found out last year that I am not a muggle-born as I thought I was. According to a piece of family tree James found, I am related to both the Blacks, and the Gaunts. I am not sure who the Gaunts are, but you should know Siruis Black; he's your cousin twice removed. This was on my fathers side; he was a squib, and on my mother's side, I am related to a few old familes, including Tonks, Riddle, Flint, Zambini, Longbottom and Lovegoods. _

_I loved your father very much, but he was only my second love. My first love was Severus Snape, you may have heard of him. When we knew each other, he was a handsome, clever young man with an affinity to Potions. If he is still alive, he is probably one of the best Potions Masters in the world. _

_A word of caution though, Albus Dumbledoor isn't the person we thought he was. If he is still the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, be careful my dear Harry. He may act like the kind and caring grandfather-figure, but underneath is a manipulative and cruel man. _

_I write this letter to you from the bedroom, and I look at you while I write. Your eyes are so trusting Harry, and you try to wipe away the tears that fall freely from my eyes. I cannot help myself; you are so beautiful my son, and soon you shall be taken from me, I fear. _

_Your father, James Potter, is downstairs collecting some of our most precious things together, for if there is a chance, we shall all escape this house tonight. Peter Pettigrew is our secret keeper for the house in Godric's Hollow, but your father and I have had some doubts about him. He is no longer the friend we thought he was. _

_I have left a series of notes around the place for you to find incase we do die. Most of them are here, at Godric's Hollow, but there are some at Siruis' place in Grimmauld Place, some in our Gringott's Vaults and some at Hogwarts. If you find these, don't judge your father, I and our friends too harshly. We were young and foolish. _

_Always remember my sweet, sweet Harry, that James and myself shall always love you. Whether we are here or in the next world, we shall never forget you. _

_Love always_

_Lily Potter_

_Your Loving Mother'_

Tears dripped onto the table making a pitter-patter sound as Harry Potter slipped the notes back into the envelope. After a few minutes, the most informative contents made their way into his mind. He was related to Voldemort.

Harry sat at the same table for the next few minutes, thinking about what this meant for him. If Dumbledoor never knew that fact, it could answer some of the prophesy.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

Harry had always wondered about the prophesy since Dumbledoor had finally told him about it. And now he had the time to mull it over properly.

_'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches' _If Snape had relayed what he had heard of the prophesy to Voldemort, which made him attack the Potter residence. Harry was nearly a year old when Voldemort attacked the house, killing his mother and his father. In that case, the prophesy was surely made after Harry's birth. So if the phrase wasn't talking about Harry's birth, what was it talking about?

_'born to those who have thrice defied him'_ Harry knew that his father and mother had defied Voldemort three times, refusing to join his Death Eater ranks. But then again, so had Neville's parents.

_'and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal'_ Although Dumbledoor insisted that the scar on the Gryffindor's head meant that Voldemort had marked Harry as his equal, he wasn't sure. How was giving someone a scar marking them as your equal? Harry believed that some of Voldemort's personality and abilities had been pushed inside him, so to speak. And that was why he could speak Parseltongue.

_'and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives'_ This phrase confused Harry more than the rest of the obscure prophesy. Wasn't he alive? And wasn't Voldemort alive? He therefore came to the conclusion that 'live' was meant in a different sense to actually being alive.

.::.

Harry woke early the next day, loving the new freedom he had. He quickly pulled on a new T-Shirt and pair of trousers before slipping out of the house for an early morning run. He could hear a panting behind him, and the slap of feet unused to running on the ground. Dumbledoor had someone following him, did he? And by the sound of it, it was Mundungus Fletcher.

He only ran a few times round the rather large park a few streets away, before walking slowly back to number 4 Privet Drive. His legs were burning, and his lungs felt as though they hadn't had any oxygen for a while, and Harry made a mental note to keep up the running, and try to get fitter. Quidditch training only did so much for a person's physique. After all, how could riding a broomstick help gain leg muscles?

When he got back to the house, he locked the front door and turned the shower on upstairs. He drew all the curtains and stripped to look at himself in the mirror in the spare bedroom.

He was taller than he had been last time he had looked in a mirror, with slightly defined muscles on his arms, legs and stomach. Training for Quidditch had given him an athletic build; lithe and slim with muscles but little fat on him. His hair was growing longer now, the additional weight taming it slightly, and his fringe mostly covered the ugly scar that everyone recognised.

Getting into the shower, Harry smiled as the cool water rushed over his shoulders and down his back and chest. Since he was home alone, he could afford to take his time in the shower, something he hadn't been able to do during the holidays before.

He took about an hour out of his busy day schedule to lean against the wall of the shower and contemplate what had happened so far. He had spent much of the day before mulling over the prophesy and making notes on it. He had then designed himself a timetable for the rest of the holidays, making sure that he had enough time to go shopping and buy himself some new clothes. In fact, that was what he had planned for the weekend, which was only two days away. He hoped that he could get some books for extra-curricula reading.

He dressed in a pair of jeans and a tight-ish T-Shirt as he took out his Potions book and began to scribble away on a spare piece of paper. Urgh, trust Snape to set an essay on the effects of 'mandrake root' in four different potions. The only one he could think of was the potion for counter-acting petrification. And even then, he doubted he could write enough on it.

.::.

Harry woke early and went on his morning run. It was Saturday now, and he was used to getting up at five o clock, although apparently, the person following him still wasn't ready for the running. Maybe they should just get a broom.

He was already getting better at running, and could manage at least ten laps round the park in less than half an hour, although when he got back, his lungs were burning and he had to have a sit down before he could move again.

He had a quick shower and dressed for town, strapping his wand onto his arm using the wandholder he had bought last time he was in Diagon Alley. It had proved to be very useful so far, and he reckoned that it would become even more so.

He took some of the muggle money Petunia had left for him, and exited the house, locking it securely behind him before throwing the key behind the flower bed that lined the window sill.

Harry took the muggle bus to London; it took a lot longer, yes, but it was less risky, and he wasn't as likely to be recognised by a wizard. After all, what wizard would travel by muggle means when they could apparate or get the Day Bus?

* * *

There you go. The first chapter. Tell me what you think of it...comments, constructive criticism and even flames are welcome if you think it's necessary.

'The Art of War' is a real book written by Sun-Tzu.

Now a little vote. I'm not sure whether to have the Weasley's as good or bad. Or whether Dumbledoor is going to be good or manipulative.

It will probably be a few chapters before either appears, but I'd love to have your thoughts on the matter.

Thanks

Kryztol Thorn


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer::_** I do not own Harry Potter, but I think I own this plot. I don't own the title either...that belongs to Sun-Tzu.

**_Summary::_** Harry is left to his own devices over the holidays, and discovers some interesting facts about himself.

_**The Art of War**_

_**Making of Plans**_

_'Master Sun said:_

_War is_

_A grave affair of state;_

_It is a place_

_Of life and death,_

_A road_

_To survival and extinction,_

_A matter _

_To be pondered carefully._

_There are five fundamentals_

_For this deliberation,_

_For the making of comparisons_

_And the assessing of conditions:_

_The Way,_

_Heaven,_

_Earth,_

_Command,_

_Discipline'_

Sun Tzu

_**Chapter 2 – Heaven**_

_'Heaven is_

_Ying and Yang_

_Cold and hot_

_The cycle of seasons.'_

Sun Tzu

.::.

The bus was mostly empty, save for the driver and a few elderly women, but Harry still went upstairs for more privacy. The bus driver had just announced that they would be departing the station when Harry heard a few more people climb onto the bus.

"London please." A male voice said, and by the sound of his accent, American. "Now, what's this?" He asked and Harry could hear coins chinking together.

"Honestly father." Came a younger male voice. "These are pounds. We give the nice man three of these, and two of these notes things with the 10 on." He fell silent, and Harry guessed the money was changing hands.

He supposed it must be strange for Americans to use English money, he thought, a bit like him using wizarding money. It always took him a little while to remember how many knuts were in a sickle and how many of those to a galleon.

"Come on father. Up here." The voice said again, and the bus started off, the new passengers making their way up the stairs to the second storey where Harry was sitting. He had positioned himself at the back of the bus, so that he could see the Americans as they made their way to their seats.

"Honesly. What a stupid monetry system they have here; it's worse than the American muggle system." Harry's eyes grew wide as he heard a female voice for the first time, and the three made their way to the middle of the bus.

There was a man who looked to be in his early 40s, a woman of the same age and a boy of Harry's own age, or thereabouts. They were dressed neatly, almost too perfectly; as though they had just bought the items from a style magazine, or top fashion page. Although, if they were wizards, it would be quie possible for them to transfigure themselves the outfits.

The boy had caught Harry's attention. It was well known round the Gryffindor tower that Harry was bisexual, which had please a lot more people than he thought was good. The boy had black spiked-up hair, a tanned complexion and brilliant blue eyes. He was lean and muscular, wearing black jeans, vans (AN: shoes), a tight white t-shirt and black shirt left open with the sleeves rolled up. Harry could see the bump in his pocket where he had his wand; not the safest of places, especially in London.

He stood and walked carefully over to them, making sure he didn't fall and make a fool out of himself.

"Hi." He said, smirking as their heads snapped round. "I couldn't help overhearing your comment about muggle money, and thought I might introduce myself." He chuckled lightly at the looks of relief on their faces.

"I'm Ray Crews, and these are my parents, Lisa and Nathan." The boy said, and Harry shook the two men's hands and kissed the woman's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr and Mrs Crews, and you Ray." Harry said, wondering if he should tell them his whole name, or leave out his surname. Afterall, he wasn't sure if his 'legend' had reached America, and wouldn't want to be treated any different.

"Please call us Lisa and Nathan. Mr and Mrs Crews makes us feel so old." The woman told him and Harry nodded at them. "What's your name dear?" Harry sat down.

"Before I tell you my name, I would like your word that you won't treat me any differently." At their nods, he continued. "My name is Harry Potter. "

The two older Americans looked at him blankly, but the younger one grinned suddenly.

"Cool. I've met the Harry Potter." He said. "Nice to meet you Harry." After a few seconds, Lisa gasped before pulling Harry into a motherly hug. Apart from Molly, Siruis, Hermione and Ginny, Harry had not been hugged since he could remember, and he had to blink back tears.

"Mother. Let him to before he suffocates to death." Ray said, and Lisa let him go, wiping her own eyes.

"I'm sorry Harry. I remember reading about you in 'Famous Witches and Wizards of the Present Time'. You poor thing – everything you've had to go through." Nathan placed a hand on her shoulder over the table.

"Well, you're welcome with us whenever you want son." He said, bringing tears to Harry's eyes for the second time since he had got onto the bus, even though he hardly knew these people.

.::.

Ten minutes later, the four were sat round one of the tables on the bus. Lisa Crews had unshrunk and unpacked a large picnic hamper. Harry looked at the spread of food infront of him; he had only seen this much food in one place at Hogwarts. Ray must have been able to see the amazement on his face, for the American laughed and passed Harry a ham and mustard sandwhich, neatly cut into a triangle.

As they ate, they talked about the war, and Harry found that he could trust them; mainly because of his gut instinct, but also because he could see six bare wrists.

"So Harry. We've heard rumours in America, and that's about it. Is You-Know-Who back?" Lisa asked, and her, Nathan and Ray leaned forwards.

"Yes. Voldemort's back." Harry confirmed, glad that they seemed to want to listen to him for once, and that they didn't look shocked or horrified, and neither did they reprimand him for using his name. Finally, Nathan spoke.

"I see where you're coming from son. Fear of a name only increases fear of a person, right?" Harry nodded. "I see. A word of warning though: in America there are certain spells that can be used to alert the spell caster when a specific word is said by anyone. Some can even trace the person who said it, and relay the information back to the caster."

Harry leant back in his seat. This new information made sense, but why would Dumbledore tell him to use Tom's name if it would harm Harry. In fact, he hadn't heard Dumbledore say Voldermort in a while, and instead used You-Know-Who. Harry had always thought that this was because the people he was speaking with were afraid of it, but it made sense with what Nathan had just told him.

"Ok. I'll call him Tom instead. Tom Riddle." Harry said at last. At these words, the three Americans looked confused, so Harry explained. "You-Know-Who's real name is Tom Marvalo Riddle. He's a half-blood." He said, and they nodded, letting the information sink into their heads.

"If You-Know-...Tom is a half-blood, why is he going for pure-blooded supremacy?" Ray asked and Harry shrugged.

"I don't know, although Hitler believed that the German Aryans were the best when he was neither German nor Aryan."

.::.

The bus stopped outside a large station, and Harry and the three Americans clambered off, thanking the driver. Just as Harry was stepping off, the driver called his name, making the young man turn round.

"Harry. Here." The balding man covered in tattoos said, handing the by a piece of folded paper.

"Go to that address in K Alley. Tell the owner that the boomslang is rarer than it was in 1919. Ok?" Harry nodded mutely, before muttering a thanks and leaving. It seemed as though there were wizards hidden all around the muggle world.

"What did he want?" Ray asked curiously.

"He told me to go somewhere." Harry replied vaguely, surprised that the Crews family was still here.

"Ooh, where?" Ray asked, but his mother slapped her hand over his mouth.

"Now now Ray. Harry doesn't have to tell you everything." She said with a smirk worthy of a Slytherin. Harry smiled and handed over the piece of paper.

"It's alright. It's nice to have a friend who is actually curious." He said, also surprised that Ray seemed to have adopted him as a friend so quickly.

"Hey mom. This is Jak's place." Ray said, handing the piece of paper to Lisa, who looked surprised.

"Who is Jak?" Harry asked, very curious now.

"He's a friend of ours. We were going to meet him today. Would you like to come with us?" Nathan asked, and Harry nodded, smiling shyly.

.::.

_Darkness. All around. A door opens and shuts again, letting no light through. A match flares brightly, and the flame burns merrily on the wood as it is brought ever nearer to the wick of a candle._

As the candle is lit, it illuminates the face of the match-holder. She is pale skinned with red lips and deep blue eyes. Her straight black hair frames her beautiful face. She moves without a sound around the room lighting the other candles that were positioned in neiches around the room. Soon the whole room was illuminated by hundreds of tiny candles.

She sighed. They didn't usually go to so much trouble, usually it was a case of turning on the lights, but Micheil had insisted as it was an official meeting.

The room was large, very large, with no windows, and only one set of doors; a pair of large oak doors that opened into the hall itself. The room, known as the 'ante-chamber' was round, with large neiches in the walls. Each of these was large enough for a person to sit comfortably inside, and there were at least two hundred of these alcoves in total.

In the middle of the room stood a large wooden stand with a book lying open on it. The stand had been carved into a beautiful spectre-shaped humanoid with open eyes and mouth carved into the dark wood. The book itself was large, perhaps the size of some of the bigger bibles in the cathedrals, with white pages, the edges of which covered in gold leaf. The bindings were aged but perfect, gold and red seamlessly flowing into eachother on the covers. The writing itself was intricate and delicate, in a flowing script that had obviously been meticiously done by hand. On closer inspection, it could be seen that the writing wasn't English at all, and neither was it French, German, or any other 'common languages'.

As the room began to flicker with the light given off from the candles, the door opened and figures began to file into the room. They were each dressed in black muggle clothing, trousers, boots and hoodies, and had a black mask on their face. It didn't conceal that much of their faces, but enough for an outsider to be confused as to who was who. Their hair was unchanged, and the sheer variety of colours was surprising; blue, red, green, black, blonde.

The figures themselves were all different. Some were large and bulky, some were lithe and small, and yet others were a more 'humanish' shape. They filed in, and stood in a large circle around the hall, each before a specific alcove. More and more humanoids entered and soon the hall was full of people, all eerily silent as they stared at the door that had shut behind the last person.

It flew open with a bang, and the congregation smirked as one, their faces contorting into malicious and triumphant grins. Three figures could be seen, their fronts in shadows until the door shut, depriving the room once again of the light from behind the door.

"Welcome friends." The main figure said in perfect English, and they walked further into the room until they were standing in front of the stand. "Welcome to the three-hundredth-and-fourty-sixth meeting of The Shadowed Knights." He nodded at the room collectively, before looking down at the book.

"It seems as though everything is going as planned. The Drow Elves have nearly finished their weapons, and the High Elves are helping them to seep magic itself into them." He read from the book, translating the language fluently. "Werewolf Greyback has managed to contact the outer tribes of his kin, and they have finally agreed to help us. They will be arriving at the camp within the next few weeks; those who are stationed there will make them feel at home and gradually introduce them into out way of living, understood?" This sentence was more a statement than a question.

"The vampires are also making good progress, and Althalia, their queen, assures me that their troops will be ready for the battle." Here he turned to a section of the hall filled with lithe bodies. "Representatives, I need you to keep me up to date. That is all." He said, and stood back, letting anyone else who had any news report it.

A young woman, only about a meter tall stepped forwards, and turned to face the huge crowd in front of her. The wings that had been invisible, appeared and she fluttered into the air a short distance so she could be seen. "I have been able to finalize the pact between the fae and the sketes. The sketes will be arriving at the fae camps within the next few days. We shall update them and you accordingly." She said before floating back to her place in the crowd.

The leader nodded appreciatively, congratulating the fae, who blushed. "And now for the main business." He said loudly, before turning to another young woman who stepped forwards and bowed deeply, staying on her knees.

"Have you got it?" The man asked from behind his black mask. The black muggle clothing he wore made his spikey blonde hair stand out vividly. The woman infront of him merely nodded.

"Yes Micheil." She said in a voice of molten honey, and she smiled, showing off pearly fangs. Her hand snaked forward, the long nails glittering red. The sword in that hand was lond and heavy; the hilt was as polished as the blade itself with a ruby shining like blood.

"Very good Astarel." Micheil told her , taking the sword from her. Two men stepped closer, carrying an empty sword box. The glistening silver was soon enveloped by smooth black velvet.

The doors at the top of the stairs opened, and a young woman gardbed in the same black muggle clothing and mask nearly flew down the stairs.

"Micheil." She gasped, waiting until he nodded to continue speaking. "We have made contact with the Shadow." There were a few gasps from the circle of masked figures, and Micheil smiled.

"Good. It won't be long now." He said and clapped his hands. "Ok. You know the drill. He's here. To your shops and positions. Platoon 4 on protection today. Who is he with? - Which agent?"

The reply was short.

"Ray, Lisa and Nathan Crews."

* * *

The second chapter is finished.

'The Art of War' is a real book written by Sun-Tzu.

Now a little vote. I'm not sure whether to have the Weasley's as good or bad. Or whether Dumbledoor is going to be good or manipulative.

It will probably be a few chapters before either appears, but I'd love to have your thoughts on the matter.

On a lighter note...it's my birthday on the 17th February...I'll be 17. xD

Thanks

Kryztol Thorn


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer::**_ I do not own Harry Potter, but I think I own this plot. I don't own the title either...that belongs to Sun-Tzu.

_**Summary::**_ Harry is left to his own devices over the holidays, and discovers some interesting facts about himself. Thought I should mention that this is set in the future in terms of the science.

* * *

**_The Art of War_**

**_Making of Plans_**

_'Master Sun said:_

_War is_

_A grave affair of state;_

_It is a place_

_Of life and death,_

_A road_

_To survival and extinction,_

_A matter_

_To be pondered carefully._

_There are five fundamentals_

_For this deliberation,_

_For the making of comparisons_

_And the assessing of conditions:_

_The Way,_

_Heaven,_

_Earth,_

_Command,_

_Discipline'_

Sun Tzu

**_Chapter 3 – Earth_**

_'Earth is_

_Height and depth, _

_Distance and proximity, _

_Ease and danger, _

_Open and confined ground, _

_Life and death.'_

Sun Tzu

.::.

Harry and Ray ambled behind the two adults, talking about the differences between America and England's magical worlds. That they could work out in the short amount of time they had, England was more archaic and set in its pureblooded ways whereas America embraced the muggle sciences and believed that studying them could unlock doors within the magical world as well. Another large difference was that in America, being a 'pureblood' was considered shameful. Ray explained that magic specialisations were passed down from generation to the next and in the case of two purebloods marrying, only the dominant specialisation was passed onto any children. If a pureblood married a halfblood or muggle-born or these any combination of this, the magics were more sympathetic and merged; the Americans hadn't quite worked out why yet.

By this point the group had reached The Leakey Cauldron and carefully winded their way through the tables with Ray and Nathan on either side of Harry so he wasn't viewed by any patrons of the grimy tavern, Lisa striding confidently ahead to draw any wandering eyes. They quickly made their way through the brick doorway, not noticing a drunk who had been slumped on a table shuck off his dingy coat to show a smart set of wizarding robes or that he was joined by a female who had followed them in. She linked arms with the now smart man, his grey hair and misshapen face flickering a few times before melding into aristocratic features.

Lisa and Nathan motioned Harry towards the address on Knockturn Alley.

'Do you want to go in by yourself hunny?' Lisa gently inquired. Harry squinted at the sign which told him the name of the bookshop and sighed.

'I guess I better do this by myself, c-could you come in after a few minutes?' He asked hesitantly and looked relieved as Nathan nodded.

'Sure thing, we'll just be over here looking at cauldrons and potion supplies for Ray for next year.'

Harry glanced at Ray once more before breathing deeply and opening the door to the shop. The inside was much like the outside; gloomy and dark. He made his way past tottering piles of books to the desk and touched the tip of his wand to the silver circle on the countertop to summon a store clerk.

'One moment.' A voice sounded from a couple of aisles down followed by a crash and quick _Reparo_. A moment later a man shuffled down the aisle and promptly knocked over a pile of books.

'_Mundus_' The man muttered and the books flew back up into a pile-like formation, although looking a little worse for the experience. He adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and peered at Harry. 'Now, how can I help you young sir? I've got some great duelling books in. Somewhere. I know I put them around here...'

'I've come for some potions books sir. The boomslang is rarer than it was in 1919 and I was wondering whether this was a common theme to all ingredients or just that one.' The old man blinked and re-adjusted his glasses.

'Well, I believe I have some books on that in the back if you'd like to check them out.' Harry was about to decline, worried that the man was a Deatheater when Ray burst in the door.

'Harry, you'll never guess what happened in the potions store..oh hey Jak.' He grinned and waved at the old man who scowled at the boy.

'I can hardly keep up the appearance and attitude of a frail old man if your family is here can I Ray' The man huffed as Nathan and Lisa also entered before straightening, his appearance flickering a few times as it changed to a younger man dressed in muggle clothing with short black hair and a tattoo trailing down his neck. Harry blinked before staring; it was unlike any glamour he had seen before.

'Well Jak you could have waited for us to join before telling him to go in the back. He probably thought you were one of those dreadful English Deatheaters. Don't say anything, you knew we were coming, Tale saw us in The Leakey Cauldron and Fox had followed us in, they would have reported that we were with Harry.' Lisa smirked as she finished speaking before moving over to Harry.

'Harry, don't panic. We're not Deatheaters, we just want to help. We're sorry for tricking you but when you introduced yourself we had to move our plans forward. Tale and Fox will be here soon and we'll take you to our leader, Micheil.'

Harry blinked a few more times, his mouth opening and shutting in disbelief. Who were these people? The door opened once more to allow a female and male to enter.

'Oh Jak you couldn't have waited?' The female said tutting. 'I'm Fox and this is Tale. We've been keeping an eye on you today. Micheil is waiting to meet you Harry. And so that this doesn't take forever, _I hereby swear upon my life and my magic that myself, Tale, Lisa, Nathan, Ray and Jak are not Deatheaters, nor do we mean you any harm. So mote it be._'

A wisp of blue magic swirled around her before dispersing. 'Shall we assume that since Fox is still standing that she has told the truth?' The man, Tale, spoke calmly. Harry merely nodded before being dragged through the depths of the shop by an excited Ray.

'Oh I can't wait for you to see the back. You're going to love it so much.' He babbled as the others followed with a grin. He pushed the side of a bookcase which flickered a few times before vanishing to show a sleek, metallic wall. A green light shone out a small hole in the middle and scanned the eye Ray positioned in front of it and then opened, sliding to one side to reveal a set of steps down.

'That was muggle technology wasn't it?' Harry asked, curious despite his fear.

'Sure was mate, it scanned my iris to make sure I really am Ray. It has to be safe otherwise there's no point in having a secret headquarters. There are cameras in the ceiling connected to the security office to make sure we're not bringing anyone un-allowed down here. As soon as this door opens, the front door to the shop closes and locks itself, just in case yanno.'

Within moments they were standing in a large room, the walls, floor and ceiling the same grey metallic material.

'Right, Fox and I have to submit our surveillance reports. We'll catch you later Harry' Tale said before they left through a door to the right as a man entered through the one in front of them. Like Jak he was dressed in muggle clothing, although his was more of a business suit.

'Ah, Harry Potter. I must admit that I wasn't expecting you for at least another two weeks, but I am glad that we could meet today; I really must talk to you. Crews, thank you for supervising Harry. Fox had reported that he took a bus but we didn't know that you were in the area; it is most fortunate. Please feel free to go to the training area or join us in our chat.' Lisa looked at Harry, nodding that they would join the conversation after seeing Harry's pleading eyes.

'If it is ok Micheil, it might be better for Harry that we are there.' The man nodded and motioned towards the door he had entered by. This will take us to my office.

Harry breathed in deeply before striding towards the open door. The lady, Fox, had already made a wizarding oath that they were not Deatheaters or meant him harm, and right now he would take all the help he could get. Especially those who could afford an underground base under Knockturn Alley.

Harry lay back on his bed with a sigh; it had been a long day, and one filled with surprises. The man, Micheil, had explained, along with Lisa, Nathan and Ray's interruptions, a great deal about the Shadowed Knights. The Shadowed Knights, or Shadows as they were commonly known, each member being a Knight, was a group set up nearly 25 years ago during Voldemort's first rise to power to try to defeat him. Unlike Dumbledore's Order they had not been ready at the beginning to oppose Voldemort and had been working underground since then. As Micheil explained, they had been primarily American until after the 'vanquishing' of Voldemort nearly 16 years ago. Harry had been interested to note that he had used the word 'vanquishing', asking whether he knew about the Prophecy. Micheil had nodded and recited the whole prophecy, stating that he believed it to be fulfilled already since Harry had defeated Voldemort moments after receiving the cut that marked him as equal.

Since then they had been gathering support within different factions of the wizarding world, especially the non-human sectors such as vampires, elves, werewolves, fae, sketes, giants and centaurs. Rather than just helping in an up-coming battle, each sector had been asked to actively join the Shadows and contribute to the Intelligence, the database of collected information that could be accessed tablets designed to work off both electricity and magic. Each Knight had their own tablet where they could access information, input raw data or processed information, or message other members of the Shadows, either individually or in a group message.

Offering this to the different sectors seemed to have a greater effect than Dumbledore's advances; the Shadows had been keeping tabs on his Order and what they had been offering. As well as being allowed through any of the thirty four entrances to the Base and being given portkeys and apparition codes, each sector had an ambassador that both lived in and worked in the Base. Each ambassador controlled the Shadows' interaction with their sector, passing on messages from other ambassadors and Micheil as well as the Brains at the Base.

The Brains were segmented into three groups; the Scholars, a division made up of both muggles and magic-users; the Experimenters, another mixed division which specialised in a carrying out a variety of experiments on magic-users and regarding magic-users, the Scientists, mainly muggles which took carried out experiments on muggles, working closely with the Experimenters to integrate magic and muggle technology. Each member of these groups were referred to as their division followed by surname, and Scientist Davies had taken a sample of his blood to run diagnostics on, both by a Medi-wizard and Doctor.

The Shadows aimed to cater to all needs and always had at the Base a team of Medi-wizards, Doctors and at least one Healer from each sector that was working with them who could be found in the Medical Bay or in their housing facilities across the corridor from the Medical Bay entrance.

From what Harry could see, Micheil had smoothly expanded the small Shadowed Knights group at the beginning of Voldemort's first rise to power to a large and connected group with, as the wizards would say, many tendrils of magic in many cauldrons, or, as the muggles would say, their hands in a lot of pies.

He had been introduced properly to his surveillance team while there, Fox and Tale as well as Kopp and Cole. They rotated in groups of two with twelve hours on and twelve hours off. Micheil hoped that now Harry was aware of The Shadowed Knights he might be making use of their facilities and the team could be used elsewhere, and having seen the facilities available, Harry was eager to agree.

Having been given a wizarding oath by Micheil to the effect that the Knights weren't going to injure him under Micheil's orders (although the man could not, in all conscience, state that none of the Knights would harm him or that he wouldn't receive injuries during training), Harry agreed to a few quick procedures that all new members underwent.

He received a permanent portkey, injected into the back of his big toes such that if he clenched his toes on his right foot three times in the space of five seconds he would feel a tingling in left foot big toe. If he was sure he wanted to portkey (as there was a chance it could be a mistake), he could clench his toes on his left foot three times in similar conditions and the portkey would activate. As most of the time he would have his shoes on, this method would ensure the secrecy and security of the portkey, and even with shoes off, there was no indication of the injections so he could be searched from head to toe and, as long as he had both feet, he could be portkeyed away from most, if not all situations. The Brains were working collectively to see whether using muggle satellites to track the portkeys might mean that they would work even through anti-portkey wards as most wards were not half-sphere shape but rose straight up in the air as more of a wall. They had explained that as portkeys transfer the person's particles in a straight line to a set of pre-agreed co-ordinates, having wards that go over the top would be a waste of magic, but if the Knight's portkeys could be bounced off a satellite, the Knight would be transferred straight up before back down to earth.

In the rare case that he was missing a leg or two, they also implanted one in the inside of his lips so that he could chew through his skin, the portkey activating on contact with his saliva. When he had asked his the portkey knew whether it was lip or saliva it was in contact with, he received a rather long and complicated explanation to the effect that the Scientists had developed an exterior to the portkey, rather like a cell membrane, that wouldn't open unless in the presence of saliva as it was covered with receptors which had been tailored to specific molecules only found in saliva. It would therefore not be activated and opened by anything but saliva.

He was also given the standard Map feature; a thin membrane, three molecules thick, was slid under his skin, the Medi-wizards stopping the blood flow and allowing the Doctors to attach the membrane to his back, muscles and fat before healing him up, again not showing any sign of the operation. This membrane acted like a map of his surroundings, and he was taught how to find himself on his back. Basically, he was a point in the very middle of his back and any Knight in the vicinity of 100 metres either side or 300 metres in front or behind would be felt by him as a slight heat. He could turn the heat up or down on the tablet he received. The Brains had managed to configure the Map to link to any battle map in use by the Generals, his Surveillance Team or Micheil and Spotters could relay information on the location of civilians, combatants on the same side and enemy combatants which could be plotted on the battle map and tracked across to the Map on Harry's back. He could change the signals for each of these different groups on his tablet.

He had decided against any further upgrades for now as he wanted to get used to these two first. Micheil had agreed, suggesting that in a few days or a week they could look at using both muggle and magic means to either fix or upgrade his eyes. The word upgrade had made Harry a little apprehensive, but as Lisa pointed out, they were exactly what they were called; upgrades. They were improvements made to the organic system they were implemented in; improvements that wouldn't be made with training. It was almost like adding a _Maximus_ to a _Lumos_ she had argued, just giving it that little bit extra to allow the person to shine brighter.

He closed his eyes, feeling relaxed and comforted by the two heat blobs on his back showing the relative positions of Kopp and Cole. One of them had also added a small tingle to one side of his Map, the sign for enemy combatant, or as he knew, Mundungus Fletcher hiding in a bush; he had seen his foot through his window, the rest of him obviously behind an invisibility cloak.

Well, tomorrow was another day and he was going back over to the Base to find out more about The Shadowed Knights. Better get some sleep while he could.

* * *

**Authors Note::** I know it has been absolutely ages since I updated this story, but I hope this is an ok chapter to come back on. I have taken it in a slightly different direction than I was planning at first, down the almost sci-fi track. I've been playing a lot of Mass Effect recently, so that may affect this story, but I hope to not completely copy it...although I might nick some parts.

Please let me know what you think, reviews and constructive criticism is always loved.

Rhi x


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